


Close Them Quick

by aam5ever



Category: Original Work
Genre: A Sad Story, Zombie Apocalypse, Zombies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-26
Updated: 2014-10-26
Packaged: 2018-02-22 18:06:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2516936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aam5ever/pseuds/aam5ever
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rachel was finished with running.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Close Them Quick

**Author's Note:**

> A bit of an idea I had for a short story that I decided to finally write. Maybe I'll draw this later, maybe not. It's sad, yes, because I'm addicted to sad scenarios. The spiritual throw-ins are also things I added for extra affect.  
> Comments and Questions Welcome!  
> (Tumblr: aam5ever)

It was too much.

Shutting the door as fast as I could, I locked the door (as if that would do anything) and piled things in front of it. Still, the undead monsters screamed and scratched at the door from the other side. I felt myself shaking in my pink bedroom. 

The room was once where I invited my friends to come and paint their nails with me. Where I had my first slumber party. Where my mother and father would come and tuck me in, say they love me, tell me they'll see me tomorrow.

They're probably dead now.

"Rachel," My mother screamed my name as we were running away from the horde two days ago. "get to the house!" The house was not our home anymore. It was just a home base at this point.

That was the last I heard of my Latino mother.

"Dad!" I shouted to him as he was being overpowered by four of the damned creatures. One of them bit into his shoulder, and the scream forced out of my father echoed in my mind still. 

That was the last I heard from him, too. It was the same terrible day.

Outside of the house, the day was turning to night. Beautiful reds an oranges and even purple were present in the sky. The sun was being chased away by the moon, who was ready for the graveyard shift. It would've been a beautiful day if the infected and undead alike weren't trying to kill off the human race.

It was all too much for me to bear. Why did God want to punish us in such a way? Such a torturous way, full of sorrow and slowly picking off our family and friends, one by one? Who would even want to keep living after seeing people being torn off the 'still alive' family tree? 

I know I don't anymore.

So, this was my last stand. Or, rather, last sit. 

Mother always taught us that God brought the best dressed in first. That was why we dressed the corpses of loved ones. I was about to become a corpse anyway, so quickly, I dressed. The closet door creaked when opened, causing the zombies behind that unstable door to go wild. Cursing, something my parents didn't know I did, I quickly undressed and dressed again. 

It was a purple and white dress, one of the prettiest ones I owned. It had a flower pattern, which accented the figure I was beginning to get. Stockings were on before I heard the splintering wood of my door. 

It would've been better if I could shower. If I could comb my hair, do makeup, accessorize. All I could do now was throw on a dress and pray that the angels wouldn't judge me too roughly.

The reason I skipped the shoes was so I could feel heaven's warm clouds in between my toes, under my feet. Hopefully, God would understand my reasoning. Hopefully, he goes bare feet too.

I positioned the chair in front of the door, but on the opposite side of the room. Sitting in it, my heart was telling me to run. To get out of the way. To jump out the window behind me. My mind refused. My mind knew that even if I did any of those things, God would hunt me down and get my fate delivered either way.

Closing my eyes, I tried to think of happy things as the undead attempted more and more to bash down the door and get to me. They were strong enough, I knew they could do it.

When I was seven, I ate two pieces of cake at my birthday party... at nine, a boy kissed my cheek for the first time... at twelve, my mother became a Cancer survivor-

The door gave way. The clambering monsters made no effort to be quiet about it. Screaming and moaning and gurgling with their hanging jaws, the creatures were coming straight towards their well deserved meal.

I tried not to wince at the noise. I tried not to run away. There was no use, I was going to die soon enough. A teenage girl like me in this world wouldn't survive a week in this apocolypse.

I didn't open my eyes once when one touched me. I didn't open them when they began to pull and shake me around, causing me to come out of the chair. They still weren't open when I felt my skin broken by teeth and unruly nails. I screamed, though. It was an involuntary sound, showing the God above my pain when I really just wanted to prove to him that I would brave this pain in order to get to him and my parents. Get to him and my friends.

They tore me apart. They tore me apart, and I never opened my eyes. 

Never again.


End file.
